


The man behind enemy lines: Abandoned In War

by Nyan_Cat_Reign



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Bombing, Death, Gen, Nazis, Other, Shooting Guns, Vampires, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21553039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyan_Cat_Reign/pseuds/Nyan_Cat_Reign
Summary: This is a for fun writing. It's a prompt I saw that I wanted to do called " WWII vampires" and this is a story of Michael "Night" Rascal. A lone American Soldier abandoned by his troop against waves of German reinforcements and various elements. He's a night fighter. Using blown out tanks, building as hiding holes to sleep in. Using the night time to his advantage with deception and killing silently.It's a Alt WW2 where Germany was still strong and Americans where slowly pushing back.
Kudos: 2





	The man behind enemy lines: Abandoned In War

It was a cold January 5 as Michael patrolled a small village in France. The inhabitants here only a few stray cats and a frog or two. His boots clomped against the cobble laid road that ran through the center. It was eerie to see destroyed buildings and the void of life in once happy village. He could hear gunfire in the distance the Allies side by side fighting the Axis the best they could. He glanced at a blown out Sherman. He could smell the blood and burnt flesh of the crew. It was a sad sight but for him it just fed his hate and rage towards the Germans and their leader. His hands gripped his Thompson tighter his knuckles turning whiter as he soon inhaled a deep breathe. Even though he didn't need to breathe it was a good reflex for him. Something to get his mind working and off topic. He was hungry and his rations were gone due to him not needing them so he fed the strays which gave him the advantage. The animals went quiet when any one else came into town, Alerting him easily. His ka-bar was on his left hip sheathed away and on his right hip his captured Luger that he scavenged off of a killed German officer he didnt feel pity when he slaughtered sleeping Germans in their foxholes and stole their weapons. Feeding off of their blood in order to keep him alive. Sometimes he'd let himself starve and then rampage on a small group of them. Tearing them to shreds and watching their panicked looks as they were shredded into confetti. "War is hell. And I'm damn sure I'll give it to them." he muttered as he settled in a burnt and broken down house. Daylight was coming soon and he wouldnt chance it with patrolling anymore than what he had to. Of course he easily fooled any enemy since he stiffened like a corpse and his eyes glazed over. Sometimes if he was on edge he'd dribble blood on the corner of his mouth and across his neck making him look like he had his throat slit. But most of the time the Germans ignored him and kept going. Michael soon was deeply asleep. Corpse like and cold to the touch. Soon a battalion cams through and didnt even see him. Heading to reinforce the front line. When night fell upon the land he awoken. Yawning and getting up, listening to the silence of the night. That put him on edge, no animal or bug made a sound. No gun fire could be heard from miles as if he was in the states again. That was something that made him weary. "The Germans are up to something." He thought to himself and slowly left his hideout to scout around scenting the air to smell what was there. Diesel exhaust stung his nose and eyes. He coughed a bit and looked around. Slowly he grab his Thompson and headed off. Tracking the vehicles to their location. His steps were calculated and stealthy knowing if he alerted anyone he could be "Hurt". Normal weapons couldn't harm him anyway. Only pure sunlight could hurt him a tiny bit. But not like they would live to tell about his weakness to anyone.


End file.
